(A Battle of Life and Death)
Zhang Wei felt the weight of guilt pressing on him—dragging Fuyao into this mess, a battle that had nothing to do with her.
"What about you both earning your freedom?" Zhang Chuan's calm, rare smile cut through the tension like a blade.
Wei's stomach tightened. In sixteen years, he had learned one thing about his father: ruthless. Merciless. Unyielding. Any weakness or failure was punished, sometimes brutally. So this sudden offer felt… wrong.
"Earn?" Fuyao asked, eyes narrowing.
Before the words fully left her lips, a wave of drowsiness swept over her. In an instant, the grand hall, the familiar walls, vanished.
"Where…?" Her voice trailed off. The cuffs were gone. Her limbs moved freely, but her eyes scanned the new surroundings warily.
"I'm free… that's strange."
A cough echoed.
"Zhang Wei!" she cried, stepping forward—only to be blocked by an invisible barrier.
Meanwhile, Wei knelt on cool grass, eyes scanning the area.
The Zhang family training ground.
The place was familiar, yet distorted—almost like a simulation. Memories of secret training sessions flooded him: lessons in the Butterfly Dance, his mother's elegant, flowing moves adapted for his weak core. It had been a place of ridicule and learning in equal measure. Now it was a battlefield.
Then came the booming voice:
"I am fair. You will both have a chance to redeem yourselves."
"Both?" Wei's gaze darted across the field, landing on Fuyao.
"Fuyao!" He clenched his teeth.
"You will fight until I say stop. Fail, and death will be swift… and painful."
Wei's heart sank. His attention shifted. In his right hand appeared an orange bottle, in his left, his sword.
"Fair indeed," he muttered, opening the bottle to reveal a black pill. He swallowed it, feeling a rush of energy pulse through him. Strength returned—temporary, intoxicating, dangerous. He knew the effects would last only two hours and leave devastating side effects.
"Now… let's begin."
The fight started with a surge of adrenaline. Wei's sword arcs cut the air like liquid silver. Each step was precise, a dance of death drawn from his mother's Butterfly Dance. Graceful, flowing, yet deadly.
The beasts appeared—eighteen in total, eyes glowing red, muscles rippling with lethal intent. One stepped forward, the largest of them all, snarling, teeth bared. Its roar shook the field, echoing through Wei's chest.
Wei's heart pounded, pain lancing through his torn shoulder. His robe was soaked with blood; every movement sent shivers through his body. Yet he could not falter.
Focus. Think. Move.
The largest beast lunged. Wei sidestepped, letting it crash past him, only to twist mid-air, sword slicing through its flank. Blood sprayed, yet the beast barely faltered.
Too slow. I need to predict its moves.
The creature circled, eyes calculating, fangs bared. Wei's muscles screamed in protest as he dodged, parried, and countered. Each strike took more out of him; his limbs felt heavy, uncooperative.
A sudden swipe tore his robe further, biting into his arm. Pain exploded through him. Wei gritted his teeth.
I can't die here. Not now. Not like this.
He feigned a stumble, baiting the beast. As it lunged, he dropped low, slicing across its legs. The creature roared in fury, swinging wildly, and Wei rolled behind it, stabbing upward into its chest.
Die.
The beast collapsed, thrashing violently. Wei pushed with all his strength, finally sending it sprawling. Victory was his—but every breath burned, every limb ached, every heartbeat a drum of agony.
A sharp scream tore through the battlefield.
"Zhang Wei!"
Fuyao had broken through the barrier, her hands gripping his arms as she pulled him upright. The pressure caused spikes of pain through his already battered body.
"Don't close your eyes!" Her voice rang, raw and desperate.
Wei looked at her, bloodied and pale. Her exhaustion mirrored his own. He felt guilty—so focused on survival that he had forgotten her presence.
"Wei… Wei!" she cried, panic flashing to anger as tears streaked her cheeks.
He held her hand tightly, feeling her warmth seep into his cold, battered body. She refused to let go, and it grounded him amidst the chaos.
But the pill was taking its toll. Weakness spread through him like wildfire. Every wound burned. His vision blurred.
Am I… not going to survive this?
Memories of his child flashed before him—the first cries, the first moments of connection. He forced a smile for Fuyao, blood mixing with tears on his lips.
Darkness crept in from the corners of his vision. Despite the pain, despite the blood, despite the impending collapse of his body, Wei held Fuyao's hand, refusing to let go… until the world faded completely.
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